


Make You Break

by Luums



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Choking, Dubious Consent, F/M, I don't even know how to tag this yet, Non-Consensual Spanking, Rough Sex, Smut, So I'll just tag all the typical Ivar kinks, Spanking, just in case
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-11-21 08:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11353986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luums/pseuds/Luums
Summary: Based on a tumblr prompt sent by one of my followers, where the OC has an arranged marriage to Ubbe, but starts an affair with Ivar. Takes place before the Great Heathen Army Invasion... The rest I'm just making up as I go along.Ubbe x OC x Ivar





	1. Chapter 1

“I can’t even remember her name”, 

Ivar could hear Ubbe as he crawled up the small hill towards their cabin. He pushed through the crudely built fence that surrounded it and sat himself on the haystack beside the table as he looked to his brothers. 

Hvitserk shrugged, “I’ve heard men say that she is beautiful”, he said, throwing Ivar an already half eaten leg of meat. He knew there was little he could say that would improve his older brother’s outlook, but he shot him a reassuring smile nonetheless, “Some have said that she is still a virgin”

“She is said to be a lot of things, brother”, Ubbe turned the axe over in his hand absent-mindedly, running his finger along the cold metal as he glanced quickly to Hvitserk, “It still does not change my mind”

“What are you talking about?”, Ivar asked, pulling on the belts around his legs, 

“Ubbe’s marriage to Jarl Inghard’s daughter” Hvitserk muttered through a mouthful of food, 

“Why? It is months before they arrive, why do you care now?”, Ivar frowned, his eyes narrowing at his older brothers. It was well known that the marriage had been arranged since Ubbe was a child, back when their mother was seeking an alliance with one of the most powerful Jarls in Sweden. 

“You’re wrong, brother. They will be here any day now” Ubbe leaned back where he sat, dropping his axe angrily on to the table in front of him, “Inghard wants the wedding before we journey to England”

Ivar shrugged, “So?”

“I do not want to marry her”, Ubbe said, “I am a son of Ragnar. I should be allowed to choose my own wife”

Ivar rolled his eyes as he watched Hvitserk and Sigurd nodding their heads and humming in agreement, his brothers were fools, “It does not matter what you want, Ubbe”, he said with a dismissive flick of his hand, “This is what Mother and Father wanted”

“And what does it matter what Mother and Father wanted? They are dead”, Sigurd flung the piece of meat he had been holding back onto his plate, straightening his shoulders as he looked at Ivar, “Ubbe is right, he should be free to marry who he wants”

Ivar’s teeth grinded together, his jaw clenching and his fist tightening against his thigh. He had to force himself to look away from Sigurd, fearing as always that if he were to stare too long at his face, it would end with him reaching for his axe. He turned back to Ubbe, “This is what Mother wanted”, he repeated, speaking slowly as he watched his brother’s reaction, angry that he even had to justify the reasons behind it, “You will secure an alliance between our families. You will have Inghard’s men, an army to call upon when you need them”, he held his palms open as he spoke, sighing irritably as his brothers only stared back with blank expressions

“We have an army here”, Ubbe said, and Ivar shook his head in exasperation, “Lagertha has an army”, he said, “We have men that are loyal to us, to our name. They do not make an army”, he shifted where he sat, pushing himself closer to his brother as he leaned forward, “If we have Inghard, we will have the power to overthrow that usurper and take our revenge” He paused as he looked up to Ubbe, “You do want to avenge our Mother…don’t you, Ubbe?”, he voice was laced with warning as he quietly challenged his brother

Ubbe’s eyes were wide as he glared at his youngest brother. He often wondered if Ivar truly was the heir to Ragnar’s throne as he claimed to be. Youngest or not, he had intelligence that out-matched each of them unequivocally. Even Bjorn. And his anger was now no longer seen as just that of a child’s temperamental outburst, but as something to be avoided, and feared. Ubbe didn’t care, power didn’t interest him, it was why the intended arrangement between him and a stranger seemed so nonsensical to him, “There are three other sons of Ragnar that Inghard can marry his daughter off to. Let him choose one of you”

“We were not the ones promised to him. He is not coming here for one of us” Ivar said, 

Ubbe was reluctant in admitting defeat, but even more so in arguing with Ivar, “I will meet her”, he said finally, ignoring the smug expression of satisfaction that placed itself across his youngest sibling’s face, “Then I will make my decision”

Ivar nodded contentedly, “And I trust you will make the right decision. For Mother”

 

 

He saw her first as he sat by the docks, kneeling over an abandoned pile of heavy sacks and watching the first arrivals for the Heathen Army disembark at Kattegat’s shores. She caught his eye as she climbed hesitantly from the boat that rammed onto the beach, just metres away from him. The wind whipped her hair across her face as she made her way through the swarms of Vikings and traders and his eyes stayed helplessly fixed on her, the way her hips moved as she walked, her face and the shape of her mouth. He twisted on his knees, pulling himself further up and leaning over his forearms to watch her closer. She walked behind a group of men, who looked at her as though she was prized livestock ready to be sold at Kattegat’s markets. If he had paid them more attention he might have recognised their faces, or the banners they carried with them, but his gaze remained locked on her. He crouched further into his arms as she came closer, she walked slowly, dragging her feet across the ground as though each step was reluctant and forced.  
And then he watched as she looked back at him. It was a quick glance at first, as though she had just glimpsed him through the corners of her eyes. But he felt his body stiffen as she turned her head back to look at him. Her wide eyes were fixed on his own as she walked, he knew then that he should have looked away, telling himself that he was not concerned in the attentions of women, but his gaze still never wavered. He watched in surprise as she offered him a small smile, but he could only glare back at her, reacting in the only way he knew how. He was no fool, any interest a woman showed him was out of pity or fear, and he cared not for either of those things. He watched her until he could only see the back of her head before she turned into one of Kattegat’s streets, frowning once more as she turned her head to look at him one last time before she disappeared. 

 

 

Their boat reached Kattegat before the sun had even fully risen, crashing like it’s grey waves onto the stony beach. Tove hated sailing, especially in the winter, when the winds were bitter and wild. She had thought after so many days at sea that she would be relieved to finally reach land, but instead she felt a heavy weight of dread hit the bottom of her stomach like an anchor. 

“Stand up and ready yourself, woman”

The sound of her Father’s deep voice resounded across the ship, and Tove could feel all eyes on her as she reluctantly climbed to her feet. Everyone watched her as she made her way towards her Father, she had made no secret about her opposition to what awaited her in Kattegat, and her indignation about the trip was well-known amongst her Father’s men, and everyone back in her village. 

This marriage was a blessing, a gift from the Gods, so she was told. And she should be proud to have the honour of marrying a son of Ragnar Lothbrok. Though it seemed to her that the only one who stood to gain any advantage from such an alliance was her Father. 

He stood proudly near the prow, his chest puffed out and his shoulders broad under his thick black-furred cloak. He looked even more like the bear people compared him to than usual. Tove waited behind him, letting herself disappear amongst the bodies of men that surrounded her. 

The harbour was busy, filled with early traders, merchants, and other Vikings arriving to join the Ragnarssons and their Great Heathen Army. It was why her Father had insisted on sailing to Kattegat so many weeks before they had originally intended, he wanted her marriage to be settled and done with before they set sail to England. He told her he wanted their alliance formed, should anything happen to the eldest son of Ragnar and Aslaug. But Tove was no fool, and she knew exactly how her Father’s power-hungry mind worked. Having his only child married to Ubbe would only serve to boost his status amongst the army, he wouldn’t just be an Jarl. He would be an Jarl allied to the Ragnarssons. 

She batted away the hand of one of her Father’s men as she climbed from the ship. Each step was heavy and unwilling, as though even her body didn’t want to take her to Kattegat. She walked slowly behind her Father and his men, paying little attention to where they were going, she didn’t care, nor did she care for the way the men looked her up and down, as though they too expected that she would bring them the notability they all desired. People bustled around her, yet no one but the men amongst her gave her a second glance. 

She wasn’t sure what made her look at him, maybe she had sensed that she was being watched, she didn’t know. But when she turned back to see what it was that had caught her attention, his blue eyes met hers immediately. She found herself instantly enamoured to him, the way he looked at her unashamedly, half-hidden behind a pile of sacks. His gaze was intense, and she felt her cheeks blushing and her lips turning up into a smile, even as his eyes narrowed into a fierce glare. She was forced to look away as they turned into Kattegat’s streets, a hand on her back pushing her on as though they were afraid she would turn and run at any moment. She was drove forward into the town, but she managed to turn her head to look back once more at the strange blue-eyed Viking, wondering who he was.


	2. Chapter 2

If she could have swum home she would have. And there was a part of her that thought she would be better off trying her luck against the waves than staying in Kattegat, where every part of her life had already been carefully paved out for her. At least if she drowned trying it would be the one part of her life that she had chosen for herself. 

She could hear her name being called from behind her, but she stayed still, hoping her ignorance would eventually make them leave her alone. But she had no such luck, she soon felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see one of her Father’s men, beckoning her to follow him.

She realised with a surge of dread that it was time, that she was about to meet with her future husband. She walked slowly behind the man in front of her until they reached her Father only a few steps away from where the Great Hall sat. She watched the way he looked her up and down, judging every inch of her as though a mark on her dress, or a hair out of place would result in Ubbe calling the wedding off.

They walked towards the Hall, with each step she took heavier than the last, paying little attention to the looming doors they were passing through. They were immediately greeted by a swarm of men, her Father was infamous across many of the Norse lands, and once again Tove was lost amongst a throng of warriors wishing to meet with the Jarl who had conquered so many. It was only when she felt a heavy hand gripping her shoulder and pulling her forward that she became aware of which, or who’s, table they were approaching. She recognised Bjorn instantly, he was the only one of the Ragnarssons she had any real knowledge of. Her Father had raided the Mediterranean with him, and she remembered his face. She knew the men sat alongside him would be his brothers, and her breath caught in her throat as she watched them stand, ready to greet her Father and herself.

She shifted quietly to the side, hoping to conceal herself behind her Father’s large back for just a moment longer. Meeting Ubbe would make it real, and she wasn’t ready for real, she wished she could turn and run straight back through the doors and throw herself back onto the ship. But she had been taught better than that and she forced herself to stand straight and pull her shoulders back, keeping her chin high, just as her Father had always told her to. An Jarls daughter had to show herself to be just as unfearful as her Father, he would say, even if she wasn’t. 

Tove didn’t look at them, she couldn’t bring herself to see his face until she had no other choice. She kept her gaze firmly on Bjorn, waiting for her Father to finish speaking with the eldest son of Ragnar. She could feel their eyes on her, she could feel the way they were looking her up and down, sizing her up to see if she was good enough. A part of her hoped she wouldn’t be, that he would find her unappealing. Her Father could pretend he held as much a part in this marriage as they did, but in truth the power was all in Ubbe’s court. And everybody knew it. If he decided he did not want to marry, there would be nothing her Father could do. 

She heard his name and held her breath as she looked up to the man who was now standing in front of her, “This is my daughter, Tove” Her Father smiled broadly, patting her much too hard on her shoulders as he pushed her towards him,

She raised her eyebrows as she looked at his face. Maybe she hadn’t known what to expect, maybe it was because in her mind she had invented a cruel man, a vain, obnoxious man who’s only credit was the name he was born with, and maybe that was why she had invented an equally horrid image of what he would look like. But as she looked at him she realised that there was nothing horrid about him. His eyes were playful as he smiled at her, and she felt a weight of relief leave her stiff shoulders as she looked upon his face, which was both attractive and captivating. 

“It has been a long time since you saw each other last”, her Father continued,

“It has. So long I can barely remember it”, Ubbe smirked, in truth he didn’t remember her at all. His mother had often spoke of his marriage to the Jarl’s daughter when she came of age, but it had always seemed to him to be another one of his mother’s visions than the true reality of his future. And he was sure that even his Mother had forgotten the girls name. But as he looked at her now he found that the grudge he had been holding against her for almost the entirety of his life was shifting. Certainly, he still did not want to marry her, she was a stranger, and a marriage to her still seemed so laughable. But he could not deny the instant attraction he felt for her now, in his mind he had conjured up many faces for the stranger he would soon be married to, and none came close to how beautiful the girl standing in front of him was, 

“Tove”, he said, nodding softly at her, liking how her name sounded on his tongue,

Tove smiled at the way he said her name, the way he enunciated each letter as though it was the first time he had heard it, “Ubbe”, she nodded in return. His eyes were kind, she thought. She had always believed that a person’s eyes were their most important feature. Being an Jarl’s daughter meant she had spent her life sat silently at his side, greeting one man after another. Her only form of entertainment being the game she used to play with herself, where she would try to guess a person’s character from their face alone, and she always found that the eyes gave away the most about someone. She thought back to the pair of blue eyes she had seen early that day, and the fierce, almost frightening intensity they conveyed. When she looked at Ubbe’s, they held nothing but warmth. 

“My daughter has spoke often of how proud she feels to be the one to unite our two families. She knows what a great honour it is. You, a son of the great Ragnar Lothbrok”, Her Father said, interrupting their silent, visual exploration of each other. Ubbe reluctantly moved his gaze from Tove to Inghard, doing little to hide his amusement as he caught the quick roll of her eyes at her Father’s words. 

He smiled, his eyes flitting back to the girl in front of him, “A woman as beautiful as your daughter, I believe the honour is all mine”

Tove bit her lip. She was not as naïve as many people believed her to be, she knew men like Ubbe, sweet words could spill from their lips as easily as their ale spilled from their cups, but she smiled nonetheless. She could see Ubbe’s brothers behind him, making no effort to hide the way they looked at her, and she looked back brazenly, wondering which was Ivar. His disability and temper were infamous, even where she was from. But she could see none without the use of his legs. 

“I see many men have already gathered for the journey to England”, her Father’s booming voice interrupted her thoughts once more, “I had thought we would be the first to arrive”  
Her Father did little to hide his irritation as he looked around the Hall pointedly, she knew he had wanted to be the first, being anything less than a paramount of the Jarls and chiefs to join the Ragnarssons would never be good enough for him, 

Ubbe hesitated before looking away from Tove again, he would have gladly stayed gazing at her face for the rest of the night, “We expected that also, but we are not complaining. This is only a small fraction of what the Saxons will have to face. Will you be sailing to England with us, Tove?” He turned back to her again, ignoring Inghard’s roaring laughter at the idea of his daughter journeying with the Great Heathen Army across the seas,

“I have not yet decided”, she said, glaring at her Father, 

“She will be your wife. It is up to you to decide what she will do”, He chortled loudly, playfully smacking Ubbe’s upper arm as he grinned at Tove mockingly,

“I would have Tove make that decision for herself”, Ubbe said, his face kept its friendly demeanour, but the sudden sternness of his voice made her Father’s laughter cease instantly, and she had to stifle the giggle that threatened to erupt from her lips. She smiled gratefully at Ubbe, and felt a small, but strange sense of relief rush over her as she looked at him, knowing that if she was to marry a stranger, he at least saw her as more than just a possession. 

Bjorn, who had turned his back the moment attention had been turned to Tove, pulled Ubbe’s hair forcefully, beckoning him towards another formidable looking Viking. Her Father had already grown bored by Ubbe’s obvious disinterest in him, and took his leave as Ubbe turned quickly back to Tove, grabbing her hand and squeezing her fingers tightly, “We will speak again, soon. When we are not surrounded by…”, he looked around at the bodies of men that surrounded them and smiled at her, shrugging his shoulders, “It was nice to have finally met you, Tove”, he kissed her knuckles quickly before letting himself get pulled back to his table of brothers. 

 

Ivar pushed through the doors of the Hall, scanning the room quickly and immediately spotting his brothers. He crawled towards them and climbed into the vacant chair beside Ubbe. He could see his brothers had already had too much to drink and he snapped his fingers at a passing slave, ordering them to fill his own cup. He listened silently as his brothers spoke, his eyes constantly searching the room, watching each man, observing every new and unfamiliar face. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes met with something he felt somewhat familiar with, and he doubled his gaze back to the girl sat across the large room. He could have missed her behind the throng of men that sat around her, but just as it did that morning, her face made him stop and stare. 

He gaped at her, his eyelids moving so slow as he watched her that he looked almost unblinking. She was staring too, but not at him. Her face was expressionless and it seemed as though she was seeing right through the skulls of the men in front of her, looking but not looking at anything at all. He still didn’t know who she was, but he knew he had never seen her before. He would have remembered her, that he was sure of. 

Ubbe threw his empty goblet at Hvitserk as they laughed loudly together, stirring Ivar from his trance, “I see pretty faces every day and I have never had the desire to marry a single one of them, not even her”, Ubbe leaned back in his chair as he spoke, gulping his ale before sighing loudly, “If I was given more time to get to know the woman, maybe I would come to see things differently”

“Her Father looked at you as though you were Odin himself”, Sigurd smirked, “I would like to see you try and tell him you do not want to marry his daughter”

Ubbe rolled his eyes but said nothing, it was true, her Father would prove difficult if he were to object to the marriage as he still wished he could. 

Ivar scowled, “It is marriage. You are acting like you are to be the next sacrifice”,

“I should be able to choose my own wife, Ivar. A wife I am in love with”

“Love is nothing”, Ivar scoffed, “You are a son of Ragnar. What does love matter? It is your duty to marry someone that is worthy of our name”

“What about you Ivar?”

Ivar turned his head reluctantly to the sound of his name and saw his brother Sigurd glaring at him, “What about me?”, he snapped,

“You tell Ubbe that it is his duty to be married? What about you? Are you not also a son of Ragnar?”

Ivar rolled his eyes and turned his face away, bringing the goblet up to his lips as he tried to ignore his brothers reproach. He didn’t see Ubbe’s warning glare to Sigurd, but he heard Sigurd’s scoff as he twisted in his chair to face Ivar, “What? I want to know. Our brother lectures us like he is our dead Mother, telling us we need to marry. And yet, I have never even seen him with a woman”

Ivar’s lips tightened as he glowered viciously, “The only women you can get are the ones you have to force into your bed”

“At least, I have been with a woman” Sigurd slammed his goblet onto the table forcefully, “At least I am not a virgin”

“Shut up Sigurd”, Ubbe glared at him, he could see by Ivar’s face that he was losing the fight with his already short temper, and he turned to his youngest brother, “Ivar, look at me”

But Ivar only glared at him as Hvitserk drew Sigurd away, his face burning in both shame and a blazing anger. Ubbe’s sympathetic stare was just as bad as Sigurd’s sneer, and he had to force himself to look away from his brother, his gaze falling back on the girl across the room. He wondered if she had ever been with a man. With a face like hers he knew that she must have. There was a reason so many men surrounded her, he thought with a frown. In his mind he began to create pictures of what she would look like without her dress, what it would feel like to have her bare and exposed in front of him. _For him._

She stood up suddenly, and he watched as she pushed through the bodies in the Hall and made her way towards the doors. Instinct took hold of him, and he slid from his chair, crawling after her without a second glance back towards his brothers. It was dark out, and there was just as many people outside as there were inside, but he still found her. Ivar kept his distance as he crawled behind her, his eyes fixed on the small of her waist and the curve of her rear. He didn’t know why he was following her, but he felt powerless to his own impulses, as though she had bewitched him. His arms seemed to move of their own accord as he dragged himself across the sodden ground, unable to tear his gaze away from her. She stopped at one of the huts, and Ivar halted, watching as she pushed her way inside. He realised suddenly that he wanted her to look at him, to see that he had been watching her. He wanted to see how she would react to him, how she would feel if she knew the cripple lusted after her. He wanted to follow her inside and he didn’t care who saw him. But he didn’t move. He stayed silent and still, half-hidden behind a small, decrepit old shelter, swearing he would find out who this witch was.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New chapter where things actually happen. Give me some feedback and tell me what you think!

“It is your fate. Who else could my daughter marry but a son of Ragnar? There is no other woman alive worthy of such a union. Ragnar himself knew that when you were but the swelling of your mother’s belly”

Tove had to turn her face away as her Father reiterated the same words he had been saying ever since she was a child, as though her hearing them one more time would suddenly make her compliant. She had never been more grateful to step into a blacksmiths workshop before, the noise from inside easily drowned out his relentless speeches. She waited as her Father strolled through the door with all of his usual bravado, her eyes flitting between the two men inside,

“Jarl Inghard. I was hoping the Gods would send you my way again”

She couldn’t stop her eyes rolling at the overly proud expression on her Fathers face as the older of the two men greeted him, the smallest form of praise was music to his ears and he was sure to spend as much time as he could telling the smith all his stories of the villages he conquered. They left her stood in the entrance as they walked to the back of the shelter and her attention turned to the man sat behind the grinding wheel, his head bowed low, too absorbed in his work to notice that she was there. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him as she watched the way he glided his axe skilfully over the stone wheel. His hand rotated the hilt over and over, and she stared at the muscles in his forearms flexing and tensing with each movement. Her gaze trailed over his upper body, as she silently appreciated his large arms and broad shoulders, even the veins that protruded under the dirt ridden skin of his neck. 

His head snapped up suddenly and his eyes immediately met with hers as his arms ceased all movement. It wasn’t often that Tove found herself admiring a man’s appearance, one always seemed much like the other, but her first thought as she looked at him was how beautiful his face was and how strangely blue his eyes were. She felt a strange sense of familiarity as they looked at each other, as though she had seen him somewhere before. But before she could open her mouth, his expression turned cold and unfriendly, the sheer ferocity in his gaze made her take an involuntary step back.

“What?” he snapped, tilting his head to the side as he eyed her, “Do you want something?”

Tove didn’t say anything, his unjustified hostility had shocked her into silence and all she could do was watch as his face grew darker. He leaned forward and visibly tightened his grip on the axe, “You should know that I do not take well to people staring”

It was a blatant warning, and she knew it was meant to intimidate her, just watching the way he sneered at her, the arrogant way he held himself told her that he was used to people being frightened of him, but all it did to Tove was anger her, “I wasn’t staring”, she lied, glaring at him as she stepped forward, “And _you_ should know that I do not take well to threats”

In a flash, he pushed himself away from where he sat and dropped to the floor. Tove jumped in surprise as he slammed the hilt of his axe on the ground before crawling slowly but deliberately towards her. Her eyes quickly scanned the leather bonds around his legs as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing before forcing herself to look back at his face. She wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but everything in his eyes told her she should be afraid and she held her breath as she waited for him to reach her, but he only smirked as he crawled past, taking one last mocking glance over his shoulder before leaving the hut. Her heart was still pounding heavily in her chest as her Father came to stand at her side, oblivious to anything but himself as he beckoned for her to follow him once again. 

 

 

Every day at the same time, Tove would meet with Ubbe outside the Great Hall. They spent hours walking as they shared stories of their childhood and Ubbe’s life in Kattegat. They never spoke of their upcoming marriage, and knew he must feel the same way as she did, his life had been planned out just as much as hers. 

She sat inside the Hall, amongst a cluster of other highborn women, bouncing her legs up and down in impatience as she waited for the moment when she could leave the mundane conversation that consisted of nothing more than weaving, spinning and what they would be cooking for their husbands that night, which was always the same as the night before. She looked towards the open doors in hopes that she would see Ubbe’s now familiar silhouette waiting outside for her. Her eyes widened in surprise as she saw him standing inside, his arms folded across his chest as he watched her, his mouth turned up on one side in a lopsided smile as he bit his lower lip. He nodded his head, gesturing for her to go to him, and it took all of her self-restraint to not jump from her seat and run across the Hall towards him. 

She ignored the hushed whispers from the women behind her and walked calmly towards him, trying desperately to disguise her fluster as his eyes shamelessly gazed over her body, “How long have you been here?”, she asked as she reached him,

“Long enough to know that your weaving skills leave much to be desired” he replied, looking down at her with a smile on his face, “And that there are more holes in your fingers than the linen you were supposed to be stitching”

“Have you just been watching me?” she looked at him through narrowed eyes as he pushed himself from the wall and guided her through the doors, 

He shrugged as they walked, their arms brushing against each other with every other step, “It was a better view than anything else in Kattegat”

Ubbe looked over his shoulder at the small throng of men that had begun to follow them and raised an eyebrow as he looked back at Tove, “Your personal army has joined us again”, 

Tove sighed as she turned her head to look at her Father’s men walking at a careful distance behind them. Jarl Inghard believed firmly in keeping his daughter a maiden until her wedding night, and if the only way to ensure she stayed that way meant having a handful of men following her around Kattegat then that would be what happened, son of Ragnar or not, “My Father does not trust you”, she muttered,

“He does not trust that I will be able to control myself around you?” Ubbe grinned, slowing his steps as he turned his body towards her, “That I am likely to take you against the closest wall the moment I get you alone?”

His words sent a shiver of excitement up her spine and she pulled a piece of her hair from behind her ear as she tried to disguise the blush she felt creeping into her cheeks, “Something like that”, 

Ubbe watched with a smile as her face reddened and her lips pulled up into a similar expression to his own, “Well, your Father doesn’t have to worry. I promise I will keep my hands to myself”

“I don’t think it is your hands that my Father worries about”

 

“Will I see you at the feast tonight?”, Ubbe asked, his hands twitched, itching to grab hers as he turned to face her. They had been walking for hours, longer than he should have, he was supposed to meet with his brothers but he always seemed to find himself lost when he was with her.

Tove nodded, “Queen Lagertha is back is she not?”, she watched Ubbe’s smile falter as she spoke and she immediately realised her mistake. She had heard little of Lagertha’s name until the day she became Queen, but the stories of her shooting an arrow into the back of Queen Aslaug had made its way across all of the Norse lands, “I’m so sorry”, she said as she looked up at Ubbe, “That was thoughtless of me… to speak of her. I know what she did”

“It doesn’t matter”, he tilted his head as he looked at her, admiring the way her face looked with that expression, “I will see you in the Great Hall. Tell your Father that you are to sit with us this night”

Tove gasped as he leaned in suddenly, pressing his lips to hers. His kiss was fleeting and over too soon, but it was soft and warm, and it took all the air from her lungs. He was still smirking cockily at her as he walked backwards away from her, his hands held with their palms out, “I kept my hands to myself”, he grinned, and Tove couldn’t control the small laugh that escaped her lips as she watched him walk away. 

 

 

Finding Kattegat’s secluded river was the one of the first things she did when she arrived, she always made sure to savour any moment where she was left alone, but the only times her Father allowed her to be unaccompanied was when she was sleeping and when she was bathing. She hated sitting in cramped tubs as her skin was rubbed raw with a roughly strewn piece of cloth. She liked to bathe in rivers and lakes, where the water was cold and she could immerse herself completely. 

She stood in the shallows of the river as the first signs of dusk began to settle across the sky, letting the water run over her bare feet as she held her dress above her ankles. She thought of Ubbe, a small smile playing on her lips. Tove found she was never at a loss for words when she was with him, that she didn’t have to force her smiles or fake her laughs the way she did with other men. She mused over what he had said to her earlier. His notion of taking her up against the closest wall had started a fire in the pit of her stomach that only burned stronger with each thought of him. She closed her eyes and sunk her teeth into her lip as she imagined what it would have been like if she had let him. A part of her wondered if she should thank her Father, that her husband was to be man she could be proud of, that she could one day love, but she was not yet ready to admit defeat to him. 

Still, she thought, it would a sweet defeat. 

She loosened the ties of her dress, reaching her hands behind her back before pulling the material over her shoulders and down her waist. She didn’t know what made her notice him, what gave his presence away to her, but before she could step out of her skirts she froze and turned her head. He sat only metres away from her, leaning against the large tree that sat on the bank, his blue eyes watching her unashamedly. She recognised him at once as the man she had met at the blacksmiths, as Ivar the Boneless. She knew that must be his name, there could be no other crippled Viking in Kattegat. 

“Don’t let me stop you”, he smirked, purposely letting her see the way his gaze moved over her breasts and down her stomach. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end at the sight of his face, the same way they did when she first saw him, and it took her a second longer than it should have for her to cover her exposed body. She yanked the material up and held it to her chest as she glared at him, “Do you always make it your business to watch women as they undress?” she snapped, 

“I didn’t want to disturb you” he replied with a lazy grin, running his tongue along his bottom lip and tilting his head as he watched her squirm under his gaze, “You seemed to be…enjoying yourself”

Her cheeks reddened as she wondered how she must have looked to him with her eyes closed and her face flushed as she thought about Ubbe. His brother, she realised with a start. Tove knew then that she should have walked away and found another part of the river to bathe in, but she stood still, trying to fight off the fact that she was finding pleasure in the way he looked at her. She felt an almost overwhelming urge to let her dress fall to her ankles, to let him watch as she bathed in the river.

“A woman should be more careful of where she takes off her clothes. Especially when she is alone and there is no one around to hear her scream”, he said, pushing his tongue into the side of his mouth as her eyes widened in fear, his words snapping her instantly back to her senses “Unless of course, that is what you intended”

“Unless that is what I intended?” Tove pulled her dress back over her shoulders angrily, wanting to run as far from him as she could, but not wanting to show him that she was afraid, “I do not ever intend to be alone whilst someone makes me scream in pain”

Ivar’s name was called out suddenly from somewhere behind the trees. but he didn’t flinch, his eyes were still locked hers as he wet his smirking lips, “There are other ways to make a woman scream”

She could do nothing but watch him crawl away, and even after he had left she was still staring at the space he had disappeared from, a part of her hoping he would come back, another wishing to never see him again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really badly written, I think I started to rush through it a little bit when I realised how long it had been since I last posted... I might edit it one day if I get time. If this is as terrible as I think it is I am SO sorry!

Tove couldn’t say what the majority of her frustration was a result of. Whether it was because of her Father, who still insisted that a body of men stay an arm’s length behind her at all times, ensuring herself and Ubbe were always in their eyeline, as though he feared she would open her legs for him the moment they were alone. Or whether it was because she desperately wanted to be alone with Ubbe for that exact reason. 

She felt his eyes on her once more and pretended not to notice as his gaze trailed leisurely over her chest. She enjoyed the way he looked at her, the way his eyes would wander down her body when he thought she wasn’t looking. She wondered if he knew that she often did the same to him, silently marking the width of his shoulders and the way his arms flexed under his tunic, picturing what they would look like as they tensed above her.

“Your Father has asked to speak with me about the wedding”, Ubbe said, snapping her out of her daydream as they walked together. He watched her face carefully, they had never spoken plainly about their upcoming union before and he was reluctant to bring it up, afraid that her feelings would still be unchanged on the matter. He was having difficulty coming to terms with how he felt himself, all he knew was that he now found himself hoping above all else that the next smile she gave him was a genuine one, his certainly was, “He wishes us to be married before we sail to England”

His anxiousness and uncertainty as he awaited her reply was palpable, and Tove had to force her smile as he looked at her. She wanted to be able to say she was pleased, for him if not for anyone else. She was truly fond of Ubbe, and she knew for certain that one day she would love him, there was little not to love about him, but the idea of marriage still made stomach turn unpleasantly, “You leave in seven weeks?”, she asked, hoping she could guilefully brush past the matter without making her feelings of reluctance obvious.

Ubbe nodded quickly, his smile breaking as Tove purposely steered the conversation away from the subject of their marriage, weeks ago he would have thought to find himself relieved, happy almost, knowing she felt the same way he did, the same way he had, but his chest grew heavy as he watched her awkwardly avoid his eye, “If it is your wish, the wedding can wait until you are ready, it is of no mind to me. I only wish for my wife to be a willing one”

Tove laughed humourlessly, her Father would never allow Ubbe to sail to England whilst his daughter was still unwed. If anything should happen to the son of Ragnar, all of his plans and schemes would have been for naught. He would find a way to ensure the wedding happened no matter what anyone said, his cunningness far outweighed any upper hand Ubbe might have thought he held, 

“No”, she said, as determinedly as her voice would allow, “My life will be easier when it is no longer in my Father’s hands”

“I think it will make many lives easier, the day he finally begins to think of another” Ubbe chuckled dryly, in the few short weeks since he had arrived there, the Jarl had become an overbearing figure of power in Kattegat, every move he made was one that would benefit Tove in some way. Ubbe couldn’t help but admire his ferocity when it came to his only daughter.

“My Father has only ever thought of himself. That will not change”, Tove scoffed

She watched as Ubbe shook his head, his fingers dancing along hers playfully but never quite taking hold, “No, that is where you are wrong. Your Father thinks of nothing but his family. You will see it one day”, he shrugged,

She wanted to argue with him, he had only known him a matter of weeks, and what he saw was only what her Father wanted him to see, but as she raised her eyebrow raised dubiously at him, opening her mouth ready to speak, she was once again overcome with desire for him, the expression on his face alone enough to make her stop in her tracks and she fidgeted nervously, building up her courage before she spoke again, 

“It is strange to hear you say wife when we have only known each other a few weeks”, she looked over her shoulder to the men walking behind them and sighed irritably, “If we are to be married so soon, it would be nice if my Father allowed us to be alone, just once. If only for a little while”

Ubbe followed her gaze to the men, and an idea sparked in his mind as he turned back to her, “Would you like us to be alone, Tove?”, 

There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as she looked at him, and she couldn’t help but smile, she didn’t know what he was thinking, but she knew she would do whatever he told her to. She didn’t have to hesitate as she nodded, but her eyebrows furrowed as she gestured behind them, “How? Everywhere I go they are at my heels”

She watched as his mouth twitched, his teeth scraping along his bottom lip as he bent his head to speak with her, “Remember the place I showed you, where we go to train? Go there and I will meet you”

“But…”

He silenced her with a forceful shove forward, and before she knew it she was running across Kattegat’s muddy terrain, grinning wildly, too afraid to look behind her. The shouts coming from her Father’s men were enough to keep her feet pounding the ground until she could feel her lungs burning.

Ubbe watched as she ran, allowing himself to take just one moments pleasure in the sight before spinning on his heels to face what was now sure to be an angry mob of men. His arms were spread wide on either side of him as he stepped forward into the fast-approaching Vikings, banging into them with his chest, blocking their way as they tried to push past. He kept pushing his body in front of any who tried to swerve around him, muttering pretend apologies with each crash of bodies until he stepped back quickly as he watched one pull out their sword, aiming the point at his throat. Ubbe placed a wary hand on the hilt of his own, eyeing each of them as they glared back at him,

“Where has she gone?”, the one holding the sword growled, 

“You stupid fool. Inghard won’t be happy when he hears about this”, another snarled, spitting on the ground in front of his feet, but Ubbe couldn’t help the smirk that stayed fixed on his face. He knew no matter what Inghard’s feelings were, he would do nothing, for there was nothing he could do. But still, Ubbe released his hold from the hilt of his sword and held his hands up in a mock surrender. He wasn’t afraid of a fight, but he had somewhere more important to be. He waited until the other men sheathed their weapons once more before sighing dramatically, “I told her to meet me by the river, on the southernmost side of Kattegat. That is where she will be waiting”

Ubbe watched with an arched eyebrow as the men scurried like rats in the direction he’d told them, waiting until they were out of sight before sniffing proudly to himself and making his way north to the training ground.

 

She moved through the trees as swiftly as she could, only slowing her pace to try and steady her breathing. She had almost reached the clearing when she heard the hiss of an arrow flying through the air, only metres in front of her. She froze to the spot, waiting silently until she heard it again. For a split second, she wondered if Ubbe had managed to get there before her and her stomach flipped in anticipation of what she hoped was going to happen next. Her steps were cautious and shaky as she walked forward, pushing the branches away from her as she stepped into the open space. He sat on the top of a tree stump, back straight and bow in hand as he lined up his next shot. But it wasn’t Ubbe. She hadn’t seen Ivar since the evening they had met by the river, something she told herself she was glad for, that she would be happy if she never had to see him again. But that didn’t stop her searching the Hall for his face whenever she entered, or walking slowly past the blacksmiths in hopes of catching a glimpse of him, or even heading to the same spot by the river each night, secretly hoping to find him there once more. 

The urge to turn and run, for what felt like the sake of herself more than anything else, almost won out, but her eyes were drawn to the arrow as he let it loose and she watched as it flew across the clearing, landing with a dull thud in between the decapitated deers eyes. She took an involuntary step forward, her fascination for all things involving weapons and fighting taking over as she found herself wanting to get closer. Twigs broke loudly from under her feet and she froze as Ivar’s head snapped round to look at her.

She was the last person he expected to see after what he had said during their last encounter, and he hadn’t wanted to see her again after the way she had looked at him. He had been purposely hiding himself away from everyone, and her sudden appearance gave him no time to hide the way his jaw fell slack when he saw her, and it took longer than he would have liked for him to regain his composure as a strange fluttering sensation turned his stomach. He bowed his head quickly and began to fiddle nervously with his bow,   
“What are you doing here?”, he wondered if she could be there for him, but it didn’t take him long to brush that thought aside, feeling even more the fool for allowing himself to think for even the smallest of moments that someone like her would ever come looking for someone like him. His scowl came easily after that as he looked back up to her, but even the glare he was well practiced in giving out didn’t seem to affect her this time. He watched with a growing uneasiness as she began to walk towards him, her gaze flitting from his targets ahead and back to him. She offered him a smile, like one he never seen before and the corners of his lips twitched slightly in return before he hid his face once more, his eyes fixed on his lap. His breath hitched as she stood beside him, so close that he could feel her arm brushing lightly against his own. All memories of her previous encounters with the youngest Ragnarsson were momentarily forgotten as she looked at his nervous expression and the shy way he turned himself away from her, it was a strange sight to see from someone as explosive as she knew him to be, 

“I have never seen someone with such skills before”, she said, gesturing to the array of arrows that were littered across the deer carcasses, each one hanging from a decided target. His eyes flitted to her quickly, and if she hadn’t been watching him intently she would have missed the small, fleeting smile he gave her in return. She was sure he hadn’t intended for her to see it, his scowl was back almost immediately after, but it comforted her to see even the smallest of pleasantries break through his hardened façade.

Ivar didn’t know why he did what he did next, why it mattered to him at all, but he wanted to impress her again. He wanted her to carry on looking at him the way that she was, with that same smile and that same fondness in her eyes. So he lined up another arrow, barely allowing it to linger in his grip for even a second before he let go and watched as it landed dead centre of the deers right eye. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her directly, but he heard her intake of breath, felt her arm brush even closer against his own and he squared his shoulders proudly.

He looked at her through the corners of his eyes, watching the way her gaze flitted between himself and the bow in his hand. It made him smirk to see her fascination with the weapon, an interest that seemed so unfitting for a woman such as her, dressed in fine clothes, her hair intricately braided and her skin soft, and free of blemishes. She looked to him like a woman of privilege, not one who would wish to muddy herself with a man’s sport. He avoided her eye as he offered it to her, pushing it in her direction as he waited for her to take it. 

Tove didn’t have to question him as she grabbed the bow from his hand, it had been so long since she had last been allowed to even hold one, never mind use one, that she didn’t care who she was taking it from. Ivar watched her intently as she picked one of the arrows that rested by his feet and lined up her shot, he was so fixated on her face and the way her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she concentrated, that he didn’t notice she had let it fly until she turned to face him, sighing and pouting in disappointment, “I don’t get to practice much these days”, she muttered, “My Father prefers me to weave and stitch with the other women instead… but I am not very good at that either”

“It landed”, he said with a shrug, eyeing the arrow balancing weakly at the bottom of the deer’s neck before turning back to her.

They both stared at each other in silence. Ivar couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers, this time he knew he saw something in the way she was looking at him, the same thing he thought he had seen that very first day he laid eyes on her, when he told himself it was nothing, the same as the day in the forge. He told himself it was the same way every woman looked at him, with a curiosity about the famous crippled son of Ragnar, but now she was in front of him, looking at him once again he saw that she was looking at him in a way no one had ever looked at him before. He knew he wasn’t imagining it this time, he was sure he could see it. 

Tove looked at his face, there was no trace of the hatred and anger in his eyes this time, it made him look so much more handsome. It was only now she noticed how truly handsome he really was, without the bitterness contorting his features, he really was a sight to behold and for a moment she was captivated by him. Until she realised with a start who she was looking at, whose brother she was thinking such things about and she shook herself from her trance and pushed the bow that was still in her hands back at him.  
He reached out to take it back off her, but instead of taking hold of the bow he wrapped his hand around hers. Tove gasped involuntarily at his touch and stared at their almost entwined fingers before looking back at him. He was watching her, his eyes narrowed as he waited for her reaction, but she couldn’t react, she could only stare back at him, the feel of his fingers on hers holding all of her attention. His palm was rough and damp with sweat, her gaze moved across his face and down to his smirking lips as hers did the same. His thumb began to rub circles into her skin when they both jumped suddenly as Tove’s name was called out through the trees.

Ubbe walked into the clearing and Tove ripped her hand away from Ivar’s grip, causing the bow to crash to the ground. She turned on her heels, her eyes darting to Ubbe as he walked towards them, he was halfway through laughing at how he had tricked the men into heading for the river when Ubbe stopped, looking between Tove and his brother. and the look of fear on Tove’s face and his eyebrows furrowed as he stared suspiciously between the two of them.

Ivar glared furiously at his older brother, wanting nothing more than for him to disappear. He gritted his teeth, only just able to hold his tongue as Ubbe stepped closer, he didn’t care why he was looking at him that way he just wanted him to leave. So filled with frustration at having been interrupted, Ivar hadn’t registered who’s name his brother had been calling out until he watched him place a hand on the small of the girls waist. 

“I see you have met Ivar” Ubbe said, looking between the two of them, his blue eyes narrowing warily at his brother as he stroked the side of her body in what he hoped to be a comforting gesture. He knew Ivar, and he hadn’t missed the look of fear on Tove’s face, he could only imagine what he had said to her. 

Ivar’s eyes stayed fixed to the scene in front of him, staring as Ubbe whispered something inaudible into the girl’s ear, squeezing her briefly before releasing her and stepping cautiously towards him,

“Ivar, do you have to be somewhere?” Ubbe said, widening his eyes as he tried to gesture for Ivar to leave, but Ivar was still watching Tove and the way she sucked in her bottom lip, refusing to meet his eye, he scarcely heard Ubbe speak. This was Inghard’s daughter, he realised.

“Ivar”, Ubbe repeated, “Is it time you left?” trying to keep his voice impassive, he would not argue with him here, not in front of Tove, he knew his brother and he did not want to frighten her even more, he just needed him to leave so he could be alone with her. But he felt Tove grab his arm and pull him round to look at her,

“No, Ubbe. I should go”, she kept her hand wrapped around his wrist and Ubbe felt himself momentarily distracted by her soft touch, “If my Father catches me here we won’t see each other again until the wedding”, she laughed dryly, but there was no humour in the sound of it,

Ubbe wanted to protest, but before he could open his mouth she was standing on her toes and pressing her lips against his. His frustration and irritation at his brother was forgotten instantly as he pulled her in closer until she was pressing against his chest. 

Ivar exhaled heavily through his nose, he couldn’t understand why he felt so angry, why his fists clenched on his lap so hard that his knuckles turned white. His bowed his head, trying to force himself to look away but his gaze flitted back anyway.

Tove pulled away at the same time that Ubbe grabbed her hand and pulled her gently back towards him but she shook her head and pried herself out of his grip, “Please”, she whispered. She felt strange, almost guilty, and painfully aware that Ivar was staring at her, her hand still prickling in the place where his touch had been just moments earlier,  
Ubbe watched as she walked back through the trees with her arms wrapped around her body, unable to stop his eyes from wandering down to her rear. He waited until she was out of sight before he turned back to Ivar, smacking the back of his head with the palm of his hand, “What did you do?”, he snapped, 

“I didn’t do anything”, Ivar spat, glaring viciously at his brother as he rubbed the back of his head distractedly, “That is Inghard’s daughter?”, he asked, his expression softening instantly as he looked back to the space where she had left,

Ubbe stared at him silently before exhaling loudly through his nose, he had never been able to stay angry at Ivar, whether through his need to protect him, the sympathy he felt or the fear he had of him he would never know, “She is not just his daughter”, he muttered, perching against the tree stump beside Ivar, “Her name is Tove”

“Your wife”, Ivar mumbled, not meaning to speak out loud and he pressed his lips together quickly. His chest felt unfamiliarly heavy and his mouth curled into a scowl as he tried to understand what he was feeling. Ubbe watched his expression curiously, before shrugging it off and ruffling his hair playfully, 

“My wife to be”, he nodded smugly, sighing once more at her absence before pushing himself back to his feet, he grabbed Ivar’s sword from the ground and handed it to him before pulling out his own.

Ivar was no longer in the mood to train, he felt angry and foolish, but he looked to his brother’s playful expression as he pointed his sword towards Ivar’s face and forced a fleeting smile in return, holding his own sword up before clashing them together. Both forgetting momentarily about the girl. 

 

 

“Why should I care who, or how many he has been with before me? He was a free man, is a free man, he can do as he pleases”, Tove had to refrain from rolling her eyes as she walked towards the Great Hall, a companion on either side of her, daughters of her Father’s closest friends.

“Well if the rumours are to be believed, Ubbe has been doing as he pleases with most of the women in Kattegat”, 

Tove felt a spark of jealousy as they spoke of him, unable to stop her frown as the image of Ubbe with another woman appeared in her mind. But, she wasn’t naïve enough to believe that a free man would live a life like many of the high-born women were expected to, she knew especially a man with the famous Ragnarsson name, and a face such as Ubbes, would never have been in short supply of attention from women. She had only known him a few short weeks herself and her mind was more than just frequently occupied with thoughts of what it would be like to lay with him. 

They walked into the Hall, the women still gossiping in hushed voices besides her as they spoke of their encounters with the other men of Kattegat, but Tove was no longer listening. She scanned the room, searching for Ubbe, but her eyes landed almost immediately on the figure seated at the end of the table, only feet from where she stood. Ivar was hunched in his seat, his arms crossed over the table as he held his cup to his face. He wasn’t looking at her directly, but she knew he had seen her too. She could see the unnatural stiffness in the way he held his body and the small, fleeting glances he gave her from the corners of his eyes. He cocked his head towards her when he realised she was looking at him, but she turned her face quickly before their eyes could meet, missing the self-satisfied smirk that tugged on the corners Ivar’s lips. 

Her gaze landed on Ubbe, and thoughts of Ivar were temporarily forgotten. Her smile crept back to her face as she made her way towards him, watching the way his hands moved animatedly as he spoke with her Father sitting beside him. Tove didn’t have to guess what they were talking about, but at that moment she told herself she didn’t care.  
Ubbe noticed her first and stood up eagerly to greet her, immediately concluding their conversation as he smiled widely at her. Her Father looked over his shoulder and sluggishly followed his lead, after that afternoon she expected to be guided to seat at her Father’s right, Ubbe to his left, but instead he kissed her lightly on the cheek, muttering incoherent words into her ear, the overwhelming smell of ale hitting her senses before he walked away. Her eyebrows furrowed as she watched him walk away, somewhat unsteady on his feet before turning back to Ubbe questioningly. 

He looked down at her, ignoring her sceptical glare as he handed her his own goblet, unable to tear his smile away. She had done something different with her hair, he noticed, his fingers itching to run his finger through one of the loose waves,

“You look beautiful”, he murmured, placing a hand on her lower back as he steered her down to her seat, and Tove realised that the last thing she wanted to do was sit. Ubbe’s hand, only inches away from the curve of her rear sent shivers up her spine and all she could think about was how it would feel without the material of her dress in between their skin. 

“He wasn’t scolding you? Telling you to stay an arms-length away from me until the wedding?” Tove asked, only half-joking as she gestured in the direction of her Father, 

“No”, he smiled, lifting another cup for one of the slaves to fill, nodding a quick thank you before looking back to her, “The opposite in fact”

Tove narrowed her eyes at him in question, “What do you mean?”

She almost gasped as she felt his hand on her upper thigh, squeezing her flesh in such a way that made goose-bumps rise across her skin, “We have spoken, I told him you are a grown woman, and it doesn’t seem fitting for you to be chaperoned around Kattegat like a child. That if he does not trust me with his daughter, to take care of her as she should be taken care of, then he needs to reconsider our alliance”

“You said all that to him?”, Tove almost choked on her ale as she stared wide-eyed and disbeliving at Ubbe, wondering how his head was still attached to his neck. Bigger men had said less to her Father about her before, and not one had come away unscathed,

Ubbe shrugged his shoulders, “I may have implied it more than I said it”, he smirked, “But the result is the same. You will be free to do as you please from now on, without a small army at your back with every step… And it also means that I can do this”

Ubbe leaned down and cupped her face with both hands, pressing his lips against hers. For a moment she was too surprised to reciprocate, she let Ubbe’s lips move against her own before she gradually began to move with them. He parted her mouth with his tongue, deepening the kiss, his lips moving more fervently as she moaned involuntarily, and before she knew it her hand was on Ubbe’s chest, gripping his tunic and pulling him closer to her as their lips moved in sync with one another. 

It was only when Ubbe’s head was yanked back by someone pulling roughly on his hair that they stopped. Tove watched as Hvitserk leaned into his ear, she couldn’t hear what he was saying, but she didn’t want to. She took that moment to catch her breath and compose herself, her fingers running tentatively along what felt like now swollen lips. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, praying her face wasn’t as bright with blush as it felt as she looked shiftily around the table, seeing each face distracted by their own conversations, until her gaze reached the furthest end, where she saw two blue eyes watching her. 

Ivar was leaning on the table with his elbows, cup halfway to his lips as though he had been frozen mid drink. Tove didn’t understand the look on his face, why he looked so angry. He seemed to realise suddenly that she was looking back at him, and his eyes darted away from her quickly, fixing his gaze determinedly on the wax candles in front of him. 

She didn’t have time to think for too long on Ivar before the door to the back of the Hall were pushed open and Lagertha strode inside, her head held high as she took her seat on the throne. The atmosphere of the Hall changed instantaneously, the noise quietened from a raucous roar of voices to a small murmur, and people shifted awkwardly where they stood. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Kattegat was a town divided. 

Ubbe had spoken little of the usurper, so little that her immediate thought wasn’t to look to him, but to her Father. It was only when she felt his grip on her thigh tighten that she turned to face him. She was surprised to find him shaking his head warningly, his eyes wide with fear, but even more surprised to find that it was not Lagertha he was looking at, but Ivar. 

She followed his glare and understood his fear instantly. The expression on Ivar’s face was terrifying. He was scowling so fiercely, his eyes so filled with hatred and repulse that it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. His knuckles were white as his fists clenched on the table, a blade tucked deftly between his fingers and Tove was certain that he was about to lunge across the room towards the Queen. 

A man she didn’t recognise placed a hand on his shoulder and she watched as Ivar reluctantly and forcefully turned his gaze away, his nostrils still flaring as he twisted the knife into the wood in front of him. She felt Ubbe relax beside her, and heard his murmured words to Hvitserk. The hand on her thigh loosened its grip and began to stroke her leg, each movement pushing his touch closer to her heat, but she still didn’t turn to look at him. Her eyes were still fixed on Ivar, who was now looking back at her. His face was expressionless as he stared, but it was steady and determined as he met her gaze, neither one able to look away. 

It was only when she felt Ubbe’s lips near her ear, whispering that he would be back soon that she was snapped from her trance. He kissed her quickly, too quick for Tove to respond like she wanted to. Ubbe disappeared from the Hall and she watched with bated breath as Ivar climbed from his seat and made his way across the floor towards her. 

“So”, he started, grunting as he pulled himself up to sit beside her, “You are to marry my brother?”

Her mouth was dry, and she wanted nothing more than to run after Ubbe, but she lifted her chin and answered him as confidently as her voice would allow her to.  
Ivar only nodded, smirking arrogantly at her and cocking his head to one side as he continued to stare,

“What?”, she snapped, frowning as she took in his expression, feeling the blush creeping up her neck and into her cheeks as her eyes wandered down to his lips. His smile only widened, 

“What?”, she said louder, forcing herself to turn away, it would be easier to keep hold of her composure if she wasn’t looking at him, she decided, “Why are you asking me that?”

“No reason”, he shrugged, and they sat in silence. Tove kept her gaze straight ahead as she drank her ale a little too quickly, she could feel Ivar’s eyes on her with every sip. The cup in her hand crashed loudly onto the table as his fingers gripped her arm under her elbow, just tight enough for her to wince in pain and snap her head around to look at him,

“Meet me tomorrow” 

“Why would I do that?”, she hissed, failing to pull her arm away from him as he held her in place,

“Because I want to see you”

“Why?” 

Ivar sighed irritably before shoving her away, “I will be at the forge. Meet me or do not. I don’t care”, he lied.


End file.
